Dissolution
by tromana
Summary: It, they, were history, over and done with. Something she certainly didn't intend to revisit. Jane/Lisbon AU. Jello Forever May Challenge. Prompt: Empty Promises.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** I'm blaming boutondor for this. I know she's thrilled with that so... dammit. Stop feeding the plot bunnies at night!

Anyway, this is possibly for the Jello Forever May Challenge. Only _possibly_ because it depends on if I can get it finished in time or not, what with the SSS, Army and Unbound all vying for my attention. Fingers crossed I will, I guess.

x tromana

* * *

**Title:** Dissolution  
**Author:** tromana  
**Rating:** T  
**Characters:** Jane/Lisbon, Team  
**Disclaimer:** Not mine.  
**Summary:** It, they, were history, over and done with. Something she certainly didn't intend to revisit. AU  
**Spoilers: **General S2, possibly  
**Notes: **AU, very AU. And possibly for the Jello Forever May Challenge. Prompt: Empty Promises

**Dissolution**

**Part One**

"No."

"Lisbon…"

"You can't do this to me," she whispered, her voice cracking ever so slightly. "You _know_ our history."

"Yes and that's why I'm assigning him to you."

"Why?" she questioned, spitting the word out with disgust. "To rub salt in the wound? To constantly remind us of what we had? To cause far too many petty arguments than I care to imagine?"

"Because of all the senior agents I have, you are the only one with half a chance of getting him to listen to you."

Lisbon snorted in response. Minelli was either indulging in way too much wishful thinking or had gone completely insane. The very idea that Patrick Jane would willingly listen to her was absurd. He hadn't done so two years ago, when she'd been practically on her knees begging him to see sense, so why would he now? Last time, she'd just had to leave, not being able to stand him and his cloth ears any longer. It didn't matter how she felt about him.

How she still felt about him.

"But-"

"He'll be here next Tuesday at eight a.m.," he interrupted, making it obvious that her last minute plea had done nothing to change his resolve.

She stormed out of the office, slamming the door shut.

That could have gone a lot better.

000

He smiled at her.

Didn't even say hello, just smiled.

Lisbon closed her eyes, took a deep breath and then wordlessly indicated that he should follow.

He hadn't changed. Patrick Jane still wore the same suits, the same aftershave, the same damn smile that had always made her go weak at the knees. Still, she didn't have a choice about the matter. Minelli was insistent that he was _her_ consultant and nobody else's. Maybe he was secretly hoping that they would resolve their differences, or more likely, that she would keep a closer eye on him than anybody else would because of their history and her obvious affections for him.

She sat down and glared at him. He didn't even have the common courtesy to even flinch as anybody else would have done.

"So," he started, still beaming at her. "How are you, Teresa?"

"Don't you even dare 'Teresa' me," she growled.

"It's your name."

"And?"

He furrowed his brow and she pinched her nose.

"Well what should I call you then?"

"Lisbon."

"Fine. How are you, _Lisbon_?"

He stressed her surname, making his distaste at being forced to use it obvious. Lisbon folded her arms and leaned back in her chair, looking him up and down. Jane was still smiling at her and more than anything, she wanted to wipe the grin off of his face. Just for once, just to prove a point. And to make it obvious that he didn't have any control whatsoever over her life anymore.

"Fine," she answered in clipped tones. "I know why you're here."

"Oh?"

"Red John."

He raised an eyebrow and she couldn't fight the temptation to roll her eyes.

"You think that by working with me, you'll have more of a chance of finding Red John than you would have done on your own."

"Is that really the case?"

"Stop playing games with me, Patrick Jane," she snapped and he was rather taken aback, if only for a second. "There's no point in lying to _me_. We both know that's the case."

"Yes, fine, you're right. I want Red John. Just like I wanted him five years ago. Just like I wanted him two years ago. Happy now?"

"Not really, no," she replied with a scowl. "But I obviously have no say in the matter."

"What makes you think that?"

"Plenty of things," she replied dourly. "Now, these are the ground rules. I don't expect you'll follow them, but I can only try."

000

It wasn't the fraternization rules that bothered her, she decided as she pulled up in front of her home.

Why should they? She'd divorced the man well over a year ago. Broken those vows they'd made to one another, promising each other's love forever. It, they, were history, over and done with. Something she certainly didn't intend to revisit. So, by working with Jane, she wasn't breaking any rules. And besides, it had been Minelli's decision to place him under her supervision. If Lisbon had anything to do with it, Jane would not have been employed by the CBI in the first place.

It was ridiculous.

But Patrick Jane was a dangerous man.

Not in the same way as the people she lived to catch. The ones who murdered their wives for cheating, their co-workers for getting a better job than they had, the serial killers who preyed on innocent women, seemingly for fun.

Jane was dangerous because he was inclined to trick people into giving them what he wanted. Gave people a piece of rope to hang themselves with, with little more than a few words prompting them. He had no understanding of the words 'rules' or 'boundaries' and little desire to learn about them either. She knew him more than well enough to know that.

And he still wanted to kill.

For that typical motive.

Revenge.

Red John had killed his first wife. Lisbon had known that since the moment she met him.

And then it struck her.

Minelli didn't particularly want them to fall head over heels in love again. Nor did he care whether or not she kept a closer eye on him than Jameson or Alessi or any of the other senior agents would have done.

He just wanted to make sure that she stopped him from killing a man.

Apparently, because of their sordid history, she was the only one who understood Patrick Jane's thirst for blood.

And not only that, but she had managed to woo him once since the demise of his first wife. Maybe Minelli was hoping that she would be able to charm him again, to help him, not so much see sense, but at least to remember there were other things to live for. That reminding him of a love once lost, that hope still existed in the world, would make him realize just how foolish his quest to kill Red John was.

She shuddered. That was a lot of responsibility for one woman.

Besides, if she was foolish enough to fall for him again, she needed to remember that he'd broken her heart once.

He was more than likely to do it again.

**TBC…**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **I woke up in the middle of the night to write part of this, Cat. Damn you.

Thank you to: boutondor, Frogster, DG, yaba, Koezh, phoenixmagic1, Chiisana Minako, anthropologist and Famous4it for reviewing part one and confirming that I'm not going mad. Also to those who have already favourited this. I feel ridiculously honoured that you have that much confidence in me.

DG - no you didn't sound stalkerish, I'm glad you think I've improved too. Sorry, you weren't first though. Thank you for reviewing!

x tromana

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**Part Two**

He was trying not to think about what had just happened.

The moment he nearly got himself killed by a suspect who held a grudge.

It was rather unfair, really. The man hadn't even been responsible for the death of Andrew Watts in the end; he was merely an accessory to murder. But now, because of the fact that he had attempted to kill Patrick Jane, his rap sheet had suddenly grown at a seemingly exponential rate. He was definitely going to jail for a long while.

Well, when he recovered from the gunshot wound he'd received very recently, that was.

Jane wandered into Teresa's office, as she had requested. He still couldn't think of her as 'Lisbon', especially when she had been Mrs. Jane for a while. It may have only been a _short_ while - only ten months or so - but that was besides the point.

At the sound of approaching footsteps, Teresa's head whipped around to see who they belonged to. Her eyes narrowed slightly and Jane's heart sank. There was absolutely no need for her to act so frosty around him all the while. He was trying his best to remain as civil as possible, to make life easier for her. Teresa had made it clear just how much she hated having him on her territory, but not only that, as her subordinate as well. But still, she could have had the decency to return the favor, even if she was boiling with rage inside. Though she was the one who had left him, she was still acting like the wronged party, like she was still torn between being unable to stand the sight of him and being hopelessly in love still.

He couldn't help it. The moment he sat opposite her, he smiled.

"You saved my life today."

"Please," she replied with a derisive snort. "Don't make a big deal out of it. I would have done the same for any member of my team."

The grin grew a little wider. She already saw him as a member of her team, albeit begrudgingly.

"But it is a big deal," he shot back, his eyes dancing with mirth. "I don't know of anybody who wouldn't think shooting a man to save somebody's life wasn't."

"I'm not just anybody."

"I know, Teresa."

"I didn't shoot to kill," she added.

"Exactly."

She bit her lip, though not hard enough for it to cause her any real pain. Jane watched her every move, indulging in the way she reacted to his scrutinizing gaze. It seemed to make her feel more uncomfortable than ever, something which was unsurprising.

"Oh, while you're here…"

She paused mid-sentence and immediately started rifling through one of her draws. Somehow, she managed to make her actions seem terribly ominous and it was Jane's turn to feel uncomfortable. He swallowed deeply and briefly wondered if this was going to be yet another attempt to return her engagement ring. Despite only being a civil servant and receiving far less pay than she should considering the risks she took in the line of duty (in his opinion, at any rate), she hadn't asked for a cent off of him when they divorced. He'd been insistent that she kept any jewelry he'd given her though, much to her irritation.

Instead of pulling out a velvet box, she emerged with a form printed on yellow paper and his heart sank. Teresa knew just how much he hated paperwork and she was about to force him to do some. Probably because he'd have had his skull bashed in by a maniac with a shovel if she hadn't been there at the time.

"You need to visit Dr. Gavin," she announced as she surveyed him. "She's the departmental psychiatrist."

"Oh."

"I know you'll just mess around with her, but it's company protocol. And if you want to continue joining us out in the field…"

He quickly snatched the form from out of her hands. Of course he wanted to work with them as much as feasibly possible. It kept his overactive mind occupied; something few other things managed to achieve.

And it meant that he had more exposure to his beautiful ex-wife.

Who was actually managing to make him, Patrick Jane, feel _guilty_.

Something which was no mean feat at all.

000

Jane sank back into the brown leather of the couch and smiled briefly at Rigsby, who watched him curiously.

By all regards, it was a little too _soft _for him, but he had to make do. In reality, he would have preferred to lay on the one in Teresa's office as it was a little harder, less forgiving. He knew that if he even dared try that though, she would have given him the head injury he missed out on merely hours ago.

She was still quick to temper, that one.

Still, laying on the couch gave him time to think.

About Red John.

About working for the CBI.

About Teresa.

Admittedly, more the latter than the other two.

She was avoiding talking to him at all costs, except to get his opinion on the current case, whatever that may be. At least she respected that, to a certain extent. Even if she did feel like he was waltzing in and trying to show her how to do her job. Which, obviously, was never his intention. And on occasion, they were beginning to fall back into their old patterns. Baiting one another, bickering, drawing out those little shy smiles that they reserved for one another only.

Jane liked that, even though not being able to touch her was almost like a living hell. It was bad enough that she always stopped speaking rather abruptly the moment she realized what was happening.

Teresa had always withdrawn from him when something scared her in the past. It wasn't that she was spooked easily; with her job she had to have a strong stomach and the ability to hold her nerves. No, it was when something emotional challenged her that she grew worried and shied away. It was the threat of losing her husband to a serial killer (both literally and emotionally) that had sent her packing.

She really didn't know just how much he missed her.

That he would do anything to get her back.

Well, almost anything. He still wanted to see Red John butchered above everything else.

**TBC…**


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Okay, rattling through this. That's probably a good thing, what with the deadline and all that. *yawns* I'm sleepy and I didn't beat Cat getting home. :-(

Thank you to: Divinia Serit, lisbon69, The Mentalist Rules, raquelvalente91, boutondor, yaba, Helvetica Bold, Chiisana Minako, Frogster, anthropologist, April, forthecoast and Koezh for reviewing part two. Especially so to April who reviewed anonymously - I'm glad you're finding it interesting.

x tromana

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**Part Three**

She didn't tell him, but the fact he wanted to kill Red John wasn't the only reason she left him.

Of course he drove her insane, especially considering what her career was, but her love for him was just about enough to prevent her from walking out.

Wrapped tightly in a fluffy, pale yellow dressing gown, she wandered downstairs and directly to her filing cabinet. It took her a few minutes to locate exactly what it was she wanted, but eventually, she triumphantly pulled out a few documents.

They weren't the master copies. Those were slipped into the files at CBI headquarters, though only herself and Minelli were truly aware of them.

She didn't know why she wanted to keep photocopies of death threats though. It wasn't exactly the most normal thing in the world. But then again, Teresa Lisbon was hardly a normal person.

She sat cross-legged on the floor and allowed her fingers to run across the black smiley, knowing full well that the original was red. Tears stung in the corner of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She couldn't.

He'd won more than enough already.

Red John had created this barrier between herself and Jane and even if she wanted to reconcile with him…

Well. The most recent letter said it all.

_**If you so much as kiss Patrick Jane again, you **_**will**_** be my next victim.**_

It was a lot more blunt than Red John's usual style, but then again, apart from being Jane's (now ex) wife, he held nothing against her. Well, she was the lead agent in charge of his case, of course, but that didn't seem to matter to the serial killer so much.

Not as much as keeping Jane in a perpetual state of unhappiness anyway.

Or maybe, he simply preferred to be more to the point with potential victims? That was certainly more harrowing than having to extract the meaning from the words written down. She didn't have anything to compare it to though; Red John hadn't sent words of warning to anybody else he'd killed before they died.

Roughly, she shoved the documents back into the filing cabinet. Now was not the time to be thinking about people wanting to kill her. She had a new rookie starting within the week. Instead of focusing on her ex and serial killers, it would be far more productive to prepare for receiving young Grace Van Pelt.

She couldn't look unprofessional in front of the young woman. That just wouldn't do.

000

Never mind making herself look incompetent due to out of date paperwork, Lisbon was growing concerned that Jane would a good enough job of that without any input of her own.

She was currently fretting over just how to explain to Van Pelt how her dear ex-husband was so out of control that he'd managed to get a man shot. Not that Lisbon had any intention of telling the young woman that he was her ex, mind. It was unnecessary information and besides, it implied that she would be willing to allow the newest recruit into her personal life rather than keeping things strictly professional.

And if there was one thing Lisbon craved for at work, it was professionalism.

A three week suspension shouldn't have been necessary for Jane, considering what had happened. An appointment with Dr. Gavin and a week off to recover from the 'stress' of the situation should have been enough. However, as she had predicted, Jane and the psychiatrist no longer had a suitable working relationship and a shrink was sourced from outside.

That was why he had been forced to take so much leave.

Lisbon jumped at the sound of a nervous tap on her door.

Van Pelt looked terrified, but she smiled and beckoned her in. She recognized that look all too well, but the girl would be fine. Lisbon pushed all thoughts of Jane to one side as Van Pelt sat down. There was a time and a place to be thinking of him. Quickly, she ran through everything she needed to with Van Pelt and the new rookie was suitably enthusiastic and seemed to absorb everything she was told.

"Uh, Agent Lisbon?" Van Pelt asked nervously when the conversation was coming to a close.

"Lisbon is fine, Van Pelt."

"I was talking to… Cho? He said there's a consultant, Patrick Jane? When will I meet him?"

"He's just taking some leave for now," Lisbon answered smoothly, hoping desperately she wouldn't pry.

"Oh okay…"

Both glanced up when Cho knocked sharply on the glass, seemingly coming to his boss' rescue. He took two steps in and Lisbon watched him carefully, waiting patiently for whatever he had to tell her.

"Case. In Malibu. It looks like a Red John. Should I…"

"No," she answered sharply, not even letting him finish his sentence. "Well, Van Pelt. Your first case and it looks like a major one."

000

Jane slammed a file on Lisbon's desk and he looked furious.

She flinched at the sound of papers slapping against the work surface but Lisbon didn't need to take a second glance to know just what it was.

They'd barely been back from Malibu for five minutes and already, he was taking her on about that. Obviously the copy-cat had reignited his already voracious desire to find the serial killer. With a sigh, she watched as he paced her room, waiting for one of them to break and start speaking first.

Lisbon knew that she should have expected this.

The files were available for anybody on the team to look at, including Jane, but she had hoped it would take him longer to come across the letters. Or, that somehow, he just wouldn't see them at all.

"Is this the real reason you left?" he eventually snarled.

She scoffed in response and pushed them aside, but naturally couldn't focus on his gaze.

"Teresa?"

"Yes?"

"Tell me."

"What? You cannot fathom that somebody might actually fall out of love with you?" she queried, finally gathering the courage to look him in the eye. "That there has to be another reason for my leaving?"

"I'd say death threats are a pretty good reason for you to leave."

"So would I under normal circumstances, but is your opinion of _me_ so low that you think I'd let a serial killer beat me? Beat us? Really?" she snapped, a flash anger present in her eyes. "Now by all means go and dissect those letters word by word, but let me get on with something constructive."

"Teresa…"

"I said go."

Her shoulders sagged as he stalked out of the room. It was obvious he didn't believe her for one second.

And she knew exactly why.

Because she had been lying through her teeth.

**TBC…**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Dammit, distracting plot bunny. Well, the sooner it's written, the sooner I can stop worrying about completing it in just over a fortnight. Ack. Right. Back to SSS for today after posting this. And I mean it this time. *frowns at plot bunnies*

Thank you to: boutondor, lisbon69, Famous4it, yaba, The Mentalist Rules, Frogster, Siren Musings, Ebony10, forthecoast, Divinia Serit and Koezh for reviewing part three.

x tromana

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**Part Four**

"What's wrong with him?"

Jane slammed the kettle down with more force than was entirely necessary and both Rigsby and Cho twitched in response. Whenever the blond was in a foul mood, he routinely took it out on unsuspecting crockery and obviously today was no different.

"My lovely ex-wife is _still_ lying to me, that's what's wrong."

"Ex-wife?" Rigsby echoed, knowing full well he sounded like a fool. "I thought she was de-"

"Not her," Jane snapped back and Rigsby recoiled slightly. "Lisbon."

"Lisbon? As in…"

"Yes, as in the boss, Lisbon," Cho clarified for him and the taller man's eyes widened in surprise.

"No way. You and her?"

"What would be wrong with that? I love her and she loves me."

"Loved, Jane," Cho corrected automatically and Jane turned to face him. "She always makes it very clear that it's something that's in the past now."

"And that's how she's lying to me," he answered and stalked away, straight back into the bullpen.

Carefully, he placed the cup and saucer on the floor before flopping down on the couch. Ever since he'd found those letters from Red John, he had been torn between anger, sympathy and frustration and he had nobody who would talk about it with him, least of all Lisbon herself.

It explained a lot though.

The day she left him, she'd looked heartbroken. Same with every other time they had bumped into each during and after the divorce proceedings.

At the moment, she seemed torn between affection and irritation though. Jane had a feeling that trying to remain perpetually annoyed with him helped her to ignore how she actually felt about him.

Not that she'd admit it either way. He'd already tried weaseling that out of her with no luck whatsoever.

But really, what hurt the most was the fact that she never bothered talking to him about the letters in the first place. There must have been another way around it, rather than simply giving up and allowing Red John to control their lives. It was bad enough that he'd taken away his first wife and only child and now…

Now, all he could do was watch Lisbon. Steal the odd guilty touch here and there, whenever he felt like he could get away with it and she appeared receptive to him. But generally she shied away from him.

He hated having a relationship with her that was generally look but do not touch. She may have been afraid of what Red John might do to her, to them, if they tried to reconcile their differences but he was trying his best to prove to himself otherwise.

Footsteps suddenly broke the silence and Jane had expected that. Though they were clearly putting off work, the two male agents on the team had to come and get on with it sooner or later. Lisbon seemed to be matching his foul mood so they were both really keen to avoid a tongue-lashing if at all possible. Chairs scraped across the floor as they both sat down and Jane's peace and thinking time was finally disturbed.

"I still can't believe she was married to _him_ though."

Jane smirked and closed his eyes. Obviously Lisbon was a good enough actress to fool Rigsby into believing she had no affections whatsoever for him. Then again, he was Rigsby, so that wasn't really saying all that much.

000

"No, Jane," Lisbon stated flatly in response to his question. "It's too dangerous."

"Isn't it your job all about going into risky situations?"

"There's a difference between risky situations and having a death wish, Jane."

"But it's the obvious way to flush out Red John."

"Minelli would never approve of it."

"He's approved of plans like this before."

"No, he hasn't," she retorted and Jane looked at her disbelievingly. "It would put us in direct danger - mean we were at risk of being killed by an elusive serial killer who prides himself on the fact that he can run rings around the authorities. What boss would agree to that?"

"But-"

"Being a police officer doesn't mean playing the hero, Jane," she explained patiently, "our safety is the most important thing."

"Is it?"

"Check the rules and regulations if you must. I'm just paraphrasing them."

With one final glare, Jane rose to his feet and stormed out of her office. He'd been so sure that he would be able to convince her. She had been listening to him a lot more of late, even willing to indulge in the odd party trick now and again. Seeing her smile at his little mind games made work a little lighter, a little more comfortable. It gave him something to focus on in between their disagreements.

His plan, in his opinion, was foolproof.

Red John clearly wouldn't be able to resist coming after Lisbon if he found out that they had rekindled their love. That Jane was no longer in a state of misery, mourning for one wife and permanently separated from the other. The murderer, for one reason or another, just couldn't bear to see Jane happy and would have to do something to stop it.

Attempting to carry out the promise that he'd written a while ago, probably just after Lisbon had left him, would be something he felt he _needed _to do.

To remind Jane how powerful he was.

To prove his skills once again.

To show he was above the law and was unafraid of killing an officer of the law just because he wanted to.

Of course, they wouldn't let her die. Minelli would, no doubt, offer them both the highest level of protection until the serial killer had succumbed to temptation and been apprehended.

Besides, she was a highly skilled individual as it was. She constantly reminded people that she didn't need caring for, that she could look after herself. Jane had no doubt that Lisbon could handle Red John, whoever he was, if it really came down to it.

He would have been lying if he said he couldn't see the dual purpose of his plan. If they masqueraded as a couple, if only for a short while, he'd hope that it would remind Lisbon of what they once had. That she would be tempted to return to what they once had for good.

What they could still have, if only they both had the courage.

But she didn't even dare tell Minelli the idea. And for once, Jane wasn't willing to go in over her head. If they were going to do this, she had to agree to it too.

**TBC…**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** Writing this whilst hyperactive is surprisingly difficult. Again, blame boutondor. That's becoming my default statement for anything and everything - sorry Cat! But still, Wicked! And *those* seats... *grins*

Thank you to: boutondor, The Mentalist Rules, yaba, Divinia Serit, forthecoast, Frogster, Koezh, phoenixmagic1, April and anthropologist for reviewing part four. Especially so to April who reviewed anonymously - glad you enjoyed the chapter!

x tromana

* * *

**Part Five**

She wasn't quite sure what she was doing.

When she heard that Jane had gone to visit Jared Renfrew in jail, she'd been more than a little angry.

Lisbon had thought that Jane actually understood the integrity of her job, of the laws she followed from the time they had been married. Yes, it was far from perfect and she could see that. But it was the best that society had and if there wasn't somebody trying to uphold them, who would bother to follow them? The alternative to the law was too worrisome to even consider. And the very fact he was willfully undoing the hard work of the justice department on a fool's errand…

Well, she hadn't been best pleased to phrase it politely.

And even if he hadn't learned from those couple of years when they were together, there was all the time since they had started working together. During that time, he had been exposed to exactly how she worked and why she went about it that way. So, he might have cut corners on occasion but he knew that she didn't. Though, she could just about tolerate it when he did, if needs be. But there were certain things she never, ever did.

And this was one of those occasions.

To make things all the worse, she now found herself putting her job on the line to defy Minelli's direct instructions. Even willingly accepting a suspension in order to support her ex-husband and dragging her whole team down with her. Once, she had even promised herself that she wouldn't sacrifice her principles for a man, whoever they were. And now it seemed like she was sort of doing exactly that.

She certainly didn't need her boss' reminder of just how damaging this could potentially be to her career.

Just what had happened to her? She was meant to be the responsible one. Meant to be in control of him rather than chasing him around like some little lost puppy dog.

But she couldn't let him get ripped to pieces by the fat cats, it just wasn't in her nature. Jane needed their help and she wasn't going to let him down when he needed it. She may have broken her wedding vows to him, and mainly for selfish though entirely justifiable reasons, which meant if anything, she felt even more obligated to help him out now.

Lisbon may not have believed that Renfrew actually had anything, but there was that link and he was an innocent man. That was enough for her to support Jane to the ends of the earth, if only just.

But she definitely wasn't going to stay in Minelli's office long enough for him to point out the _ex _part of their relationship again. Especially when it was him who made Jane her consultant in the first place.

000

She had tried to get him to open up as soon as they left the dingy motel room.

It had been a long while since she last saw the effect that Red John had on him; his actions during those brief moments directly contradicted her memories of the man she married. Then again, during that time, Red John had remained relatively quiet, purely taking to taunting her, until he eventually scared her away.

He had disappeared into himself a bit, something he often did when something was troubling him - whether it was Red John or something else that was wrong, it didn't matter. It frustrated her back when they were married and still frustrated her now. His brooding wasn't constructive and hurt more people than he thought.

"So, what about that plan, then?" he eventually asked, when they were alone save for the taxi driver taking them to the airport.

"What? Masquerading as your lover to lure out Red John again? No way."

They'd been so close to the serial killer and he was already willing to throw everything at him, to try and prompt another incursion. The fact that he was willing to risk both their lives, especially when they had literally just seen first hand how many contacts and exactly how powerful Red John was. How could he be ready to try and face him again?

She'd be lying if she said she wasn't scared, even though she had predicted Renfrew's demise.

"Is it masquerading when we really love each other?"

"Jane…"

"Is it though, Teresa?"

She sighed and glanced at her fingers. Though she wore the rings Jane had given her for a brief time only, the bare skin still caught her off guard on occasion. It still felt unnatural, wrong, even. But there was nothing she could do about it though, nothing she was willing to do at least.

And Jane seemed determined to make everything ten times harder for her.

But she didn't answer him though, preferring to allow the silence to envelop them once more. She simply didn't know _how_.

000

Once back in Sacramento, Jane didn't broach the subject again. It was something she was relieved about, it meant that she could put the most recent Red John debacle behind her. Back to focusing on their relatively normal, run of the mill cases meant she had some semblance of normalcy back in her life.

Besides, Jane had almost settled down again and that could only be a good thing. Of course, he was still hinting occasionally that they should stop living a lie, rather than using Red John as a twisted sort of leverage.

It was a quiet day though. She'd sent Jane and Cho off to meet with a victim's wife and the other two were quietly working away in the bullpen. That left her, alone, in her office, to focus on a backlog of paperwork.

A knock on her door distracted her from her reverie and she smiled briefly as she saw her boss standing in the door frame.

"Lisbon?"

"Yes?"

Minelli looked pale as he entered her office.

"What's wrong, Boss?"

"It's a photocopy, naturally, but this was found by CSI after you left the motel in Tijuana."

Frowning, she took the piece of paper from his hand and it deepened as she scanned the words. She should have known that it would happen, that he wouldn't be able to resist taunting her like he had mocked Jane.

_**I called your husband, but I do so prefer the power of the written word when communicating with you. I know you're getting closer, once again. It's obvious in your whole demeanor. **_

_**Remember my last.**_

**TBC…**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** I missed a day yesterday. I know, how terrible. I ended up re-watching Redline and ranting about reality TV on MSN instead, which is a terrible excuse not to write, I'm sorry.

Anyway, thank you to: boutondor, yaba, Koezh, Ebony10, forthecoast, Divinia Serit, Famous4it, The Mentalist Rules, Viktorija and phoenixmagic1 for reviewing part five.

And happy birthday to Famous4it, I hope you have a great day!

x tromana

* * *

**Part Six**

Following the temporary blindness incident, Lisbon kept a closer eye on him. It was a stilted sort of a friendship, especially as she had stated that she didn't really trust him soon after.

He didn't blame her though. She'd barely trusted him when they were married, so why should it be any different now?

If anything, he was still reeling from the broken marriage too. To lose two wives in the space of four years had meant he felt like he was either a terrible protector or unworthy of a woman's love. Though, of course, he'd jump at the chance if Lisbon changed her mind again. But still, he felt as if he was condemned to a life of loneliness, especially with the promise to his first love, the one thing that Lisbon had always somewhat resented him for.

It was why, though he found it easy to talk and flirt with women, he never really connected with anyone else, nor did he bother to try to do so. What was the point if he was only going to come out even more emotionally scarred than beforehand?

If he risked too much, it could easily be dangerous for his mental health.

That was what everyone had thought when he started dating Teresa in the first place.

But he was fine, they were fine.

Sort of, anyway.

He cracked an eye open as she picked up her cell phone, answering a call.

Recently, whenever she was in a good mood, Jane had taken to sleeping, or rather, laying on the couch in her office that he had been eyeing up for so long. Lisbon, thankfully, didn't complain too much, more just mumbled under her breath about privacy and being disturbed but let him get on with it.

Anything for a quiet life.

She wasn't quite the same woman whom he married, or even the same woman who had left him over a year ago. Teresa had been a lot more open, more giving, a little less prone to stubborn silences back then. Lisbon, however, was practically a martyr to her work and Jane swore that if there came a day when she had to give up the job, they'd have to prize the badge from her fingers.

Of course, he still liked, loved, her now. Still saw flashes of the woman she used to be, which gave him hope.

Hope that maybe, one day, they would be able to reconcile their differences and have what they once had. He knew it was still there; she did a good job of burying it deep, but there were some things that she most certainly couldn't hide from him.

It was just a case of slowly grinding down her resolve until she accepted the ridiculousness of their situation.

Together, they could take on Red John. Of all the people in the world, _she_ didn't need to be afraid of him. Besides, he'd even let her take him in alive now. Would be better for them both to be happy and together, rather than separate, apart and Red John dead.

Quietly, she thanked whoever was on the other end of the line and placed the phone back down again. Jane let his eyes flutter shut, knowing full well that within a minute, Lisbon would be asking him to move. He knew her well enough for her to prefer the idea of him sleeping while she took private phone calls rather than listening to every word like he actually did.

"Jane?" she whispered softly, clearly unsure whether or not he was actually sleeping. "Jane, we have a case. A man was found dead and his son's been kidnapped."

"Oh," he replied sleepily. It was so easy for him to fool her. "Where are we going?"

"Stockton."

"Not far, then?"

She nodded. "I'll meet you in the parking lot. Give you some time to wake up."

"No, I'm good."

000

Lisbon moved a little stiffly as she carefully eased herself into the car seat. Jane's first thought was that she shouldn't be driving, she should take it easy for a couple of days until the pain eased off, if only a little. Of course, she wasn't the kind of woman to ask for help, she never had been. And if he offered, she would probably snap at him and given how well they had been getting on of late, he didn't want to risk anything.

He consoled himself with the fact it was only a short drive, just an hour or so, depending on the traffic.

"Thank you," she suddenly said, disturbing their restive silence.

"What for?" he asked curiously.

He meant it genuinely; he honestly didn't know why she was bother to thank him. It wasn't as if he'd done anything different really, just hung back when she had said so to allow her to walk into the dangerous situation. Almost recklessly, he thought briefly, though Lisbon had sworn she could handle it.

Which she did.

Because, if she hadn't, a six year old boy would be dead. One of the men had been seconds away from killing the young child while the other attacked Lisbon herself. Somehow, with Cho and Rigsby by her side, they had managed to gain control of the situation and arrest both the perpetrators, all without a single bullet fired.

The only damage was the pattern of bruises now decorating Lisbon's right side. Jane had seen them. Somehow, he managed to persuade her to take a look at them and it was a good thing too. Clearly she had also fallen on something sharp and received a nasty gash during her heroics. Something which she would have probably forgotten to clean up without prompting, being too worried about their little hostage victim, and it could have become infected.

All in all, Jane had found it a stressful couple of days.

"Listening to me."

"Oh, not a problem."

"I mean it, Jane."

He smiled as she tentatively reached out and let the fingers of her right hand briefly graze against his thigh. She hadn't done anything like that in years, not since they parted ways following the end of their marriage.

"I know you do," he murmured and her lips curled slightly in response. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"You know, I never believe you when you say that. Are you sure you're okay to drive?" he asked, his concern overcoming his previous resolve.

"I'm fine, Jane," she repeated, sounding a little more irritable the second time around.

"Well, if you're sure…"

He settled back in his seat as she put the keys in the ignition.

This was nice.

**TBC…**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** Have I beaten you home today, Cat? And, and. This chapter takes me over 500,000 words archived on this site. Hee. I think that's rather cool.

Anyway, thank you to: boutondor, phoenixmagic1, Ebony10, Frogster, Koezh, yaba, Famous4it and April for reviewing part six. Especially so to April who logged in anonymously - glad you liked the chapter.

And backstory, people? Really? I hate writing fluff... *grumbles*

x tromana

* * *

**Part Seven**

Red John.

It just had to be, didn't it?

She'd almost forgotten how the rational side of Jane's brain just switched off whenever the serial killer was involved. How it was like watching a different man operate in his body. Somebody frenetic, obsessed and more than willing to throw his life away. Any sign of the light, carefree, teasing person she usually knew was practically erased from sight.

As was all of their history.

It didn't really scare her; she'd seen decent men do strange things time after time, it was in the very nature of her job. It just worried her and upset her more than a little too. There was no need for Jane to play the hurt, vengeful widow. He had already proven he was more than capable of moving on, with her, even though that relationship had come to an end.

Lisbon carefully sat on one of the Plaskett girls' beds and watched Jane warily. At least he'd stopped talking about how 'personal' the case was and resumed his search of their room. She sighed and pinched the bridge her nose. They weren't getting anywhere. There were no links as to why Red John would prey on the twins, especially girls slightly younger than his usual preference.

All she got was that he had wanted to make sure that he, they, worked the case.

Probably so he could keep an eye on them.

"Jane, calm down."

Lisbon glared at her ex-husband as he rifled through yet another draw, the contents of which were slowly spilling onto the floor of the relatively tidy bedroom. Holding a tube of mascara in one hand and a hairbrush in the other, Jane turned to face her, glaring.

Ignoring his contempt, she stood and plucked the items out of his hands, placing them down on the bed before wrapping her arms around his waist.

She knew it wasn't going to do much, but he needed the comfort - they both did.

And without even thinking it through properly, she rolled onto her tiptoes and gently placed a kiss on his right cheek. Even as she pulled away she regretted it somewhat; Red John's letters coming to the forefront of her mind. But he couldn't know, it physically wasn't possible unless he followed them constantly.

"Feeling better?"

"Yeah."

She knew he didn't mean it, but didn't bother to take him on. What was the point?

"Come on, let's go talk to the parents."

000

When she heard Jane call for her, she was on her feet and back in the bedroom within seconds. Lisbon had wondered why Jane had wanted to look in there. He'd done a very thorough search the day before, until she had ceased his destructive actions.

Well, as she watched him gather together the camera and microphone wires and dump them on a bed, she knew exactly why. There had to be a logical explanation for it, didn't there?

The irrational part of her brain couldn't help but wonder though. What if the camera and microphone had been planted by Red John or someone he knew?

What if he had seen everything that had happened twenty four hours earlier?

What if he _knew_?

She paused briefly while she came to terms with this new discovery, simply to regain composure. Red John may have taken the girls and already killed one of them, but that didn't mean he was responsible for the camera too. There was little point in jumping to conclusions, especially when there were cold, hard facts to be gathered.

As she asked the family, Lisbon found herself hoping desperately that their brother was responsible. That due to his horror at the company they had recently been keeping, he was trying to do the 'brotherly' thing and keep an eye on them the only way he knew how. It was entirely plausible; it was the kind of thing her own brothers would have done if she had dared date someone that they disapproved of.

She realized that she had been clutching at straws when the Plasketts explained about their break in. The petty crime that could easily be cover up for darker deeds, such as the device now laying on the bed. When she had had a few more moments to process it all, she told herself she would make sure they took it as evidence.

How it would be useful, except for the fact it had been present in the room for eight months, she didn't know, but procedure was procedure.

Lisbon was almost grateful for Rigsby's phone call. It provided a distraction for her frazzled nerves and besides, it would hopefully give them a couple of answers and maybe even a location for R.J. Solutions.

Most importantly, it might just give them a solid lead rather than flimsy theories, which was all she felt like she had at that very moment.

000

It was suddenly very quiet.

A lot had happened in twenty four hours.

Setting up the plan with Jane; saying words that had more truth in them than she cared to admit.

Waiting nervously for what felt like an age. Lisbon had never been the most patient of souls, but for Jane's plan to work, he needed enough time for Red John to make his move.

Worrying that Red John would choose to go after herself rather than him. After all, she had broken that mutual agreement. The one she had agreed to by demonstration only; the fact that they divorced being evidence enough for the serial killer. The promise that had been reinforced so recently, shortly after Jared Renfrew's murder.

Going to Sparrow's Peak earlier than he anticipated to save his life and Maya's too.

Arresting Dumar Hardy too; she'd seen far too many crooked cops in her time. It was something that made her sick to her stomach. The fact that people could abuse the very laws they promised to uphold.

Another fight with her ex, this time them both knowing they meant every word.

Finding herself at the wrong end of a gun and Jane, of all people, saving her life.

Coming within a hair's breadth of finding Red John.

But they managed to return Maya Plaskett to her family. That was more than could be said for so many hostage victims. She was alive and well, relatively speaking. The emotional scars would take far longer to heal but there was little she could personally do for them.

Especially when she had her own to be dealing with.

Lisbon knew that she could be forgiven for feeling more than a little shook up after the day's events, not that she would ever admit it. But still, it was a relief to be home, alone.

The silence may have been deafening, but she preferred that to the alternative. At least it gave her overactive mind time to _think_. She knew she would be forced to have some appointments with the departmental shrink, but also knew that she would do more of the coming to terms with it on her own.

After a cup of tea, she padded upstairs. A bath sounded like a good idea. And maybe, in the morning, she'd treat herself to a hair cut. That seemed like a good enough thing to do on a rare day off.

Spoil herself for a change, instead of worrying about other people.

As she allowed herself to slip into the velvety bubbles, a treat for a stressful handful of days, a folded piece of paper was slipped underneath her front door. Instead of an envelope, it was decorated with a smiley face, drawn in a red sharpie.

**TBC…**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:** Frantic updating of doom still. *grins* I think I know how Div felt when writing Serendipity at the end of last month now. Except this is longer... and I still have a lot left planned for it. Eek. And I really should be working on SSS stuff. Dammit.

Thank you to: yaba, phoenixmagic1, boutondor, lisbon69, Helvetica Bold, Frogster, Koezh, dwennie, anthropologist, Famous4it and Ebony10 for reviewing part seven. I'm so grateful for the support - and especially that you're keeping up with this crazy updating rate.

For boutondor again, who needs something to make her smile.

x tromana

* * *

**Part Eight**

"The hair looks good."

Lisbon looked at Jane warily but didn't respond. She was busy trying desperately to work out the catch. Then again, that was hardly surprising; she rarely took well to compliments anyway.

"Reminds me of when we were married."

"Thanks, I guess."

He smirked as she raised a skeptical eyebrow and eased herself into her office chair. Without looking at him, she went about her normal routine: booting up her computer, taking periodic sips of her morning coffee, quickly flicking through any outstanding paperwork to see if anything caught her eye.

And particularly if that note from Minelli relating to psychiatrists had arrived yet. Not that she wanted it to.

Half a minute later, she glanced back at him. He was still there, busy fiddling with her pens.

"Is there a reason for you to be hounding me in my office or are you just bored and looking for entertainment."

"There's something wrong."

"I'm fine."

"No, you're not," Jane retorted and Lisbon quickly opened her mouth, but shut it again. "You're hiding something."

"And so was the Wicked Witch of the West."

"No, she was more misunderstood," Jane answered smoothly, taking a file out of her hands and placing it back down. "If you believe what Maguire has to say, anyway."

"Whatever."

"You're not in the mood to talk, are you?"

"No, I'm not."

"I'll leave you to it then."

"Good."

Jane knew it was uncharacteristic to admit defeat so soon, but as something was really troubling Lisbon, he couldn't upset her. Well, even more so than she already was.

If he did so, she'd never talk.

And that would do no good.

Especially as he was almost certain it had something to do with Red John. Something to do with the Plaskett case.

Probably to do with the fact that they were caught hugging on camera.

And the chaste kiss to the cheek.

Especially that.

After all, so long ago now, she'd said that 'still counts' to him. Would Red John agree with her? Was she simply running scared that a serial killer would be out for blood, simply because she had reminded him he was still in the land of the living?

And if Red John _did_ agree with her sentiments, how long would it be until he reared his ugly head again? How long would he leave her to stress herself out and worry?

000

She was out, probably for the rest of the afternoon.

Interviewing a relative of the victim with Cho. She'd explicitly told him not to come along; earlier that day, he'd already insulted the manager of a health consortium and she apparently thought it wise that he stay back in the office and 'cool off' for a while.

He was perfectly fine though. She was the one who needed to calm down.

Obviously, the stress of the situation was taking it out on her.

She had tried to banter earlier, like normal, but had run out of steam and thrown him unceremoniously out of her office instead.

Not that that hadn't happened before of course. Quite frequently, even. Through entirely no fault of… who was he kidding? He liked needling her and that was exactly why Lisbon took her frustrations out on him.

Jane would normally feel grumpy about being left out of the exciting parts of the cases. The one where he got to see new audiences and have them marvel at his skills (or throwing crockery, whichever came first). He got to show off in front of Lisbon and the rest of the team and it stopped him from laying on a couch, simply procrastinating.

It stopped him from thinking about Red John and what could have been, what _should _have been, with Teresa.

Still, he was quite pleased to be left at the office, alone.

He didn't even know where Rigsby and Van Pelt were, only that they were doing something to do with the case. That was a little risky of Lisbon; those two were becoming very hopeless at hiding their affections for one another.

But he was pleased they were gone. It meant he could get on with his snooping in peace. Not that they would have bothered to stop him either way. Van Pelt might have offered a few lame words, but that was about it. They both knew well enough that when Jane was on a mission, nothing they could say or do would stop him.

As he started rifling through the paperwork on her desk, his eyes flickered briefly up to the clock. Three seventeen p.m. She would probably be back by five.

That meant he had plenty of time.

Still, it didn't stop him from growing frustrated. If it was something to do with paperwork that was annoying her, it would be relatively new. There hadn't been enough time for it to be buried deep within her files just yet. He had half a feeling that it might be the meeting with the new psychiatrist. Lisbon would be the one responsible for telling him the time and date of his appointment too and she could just be putting it off.

Some say out of sight is out of mind, after all.

He grinned when he opened the file on the very top, but it soon fell from his face as he realized what the contents actually were.

But it was just what he was looking for. And it had been hiding in plain sight all along.

000

They arrived back later than she expected. Lisbon hadn't even bothered to let Cho come back up to the office and had simply dismissed him in the parking lot. Anything of use could be done in the morning.

But of course, when it came to work, it was one rule for her and another for the others. Though Jane had made up a completely different set for himself, of course.

She was feeling relatively calm until she switched on the lamp of her desk and jumped a mile.

Patrick Jane was sitting in her chair.

"Jane! You scared the crap out of me," she hissed, glancing away briefly. "Don't do that."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Tell you what?"

He narrowed his eyes at her and opened the file.

The contents were all too familiar for her. A copy of the letter from Red John that she had received just under forty eight hours ago.

She had been intending to tell him, but had been putting it off. Jane knew about the other ones and Lisbon knew that sooner or later, he would find out.

But talking about it was hard. Nor was it a pleasant conversational topic. Just how did you approach a work colleague (somebody who, coincidentally, you loved dearly) and announce lightly that a serial killer was planning to kill you, simply because you had offered him some comfort?

"I was going to tell you…"

"When? When it was too late?" Jane queried and she glanced away, unable to bear his fiery gaze. "Red John wants to kill you. He said as much."

"I know!"

"There's no need to be running scared alone, Teresa…"

"Yes, there is," she retorted, hating the situation, hating herself for not having held back in the first place. "I can't risk anybody's else's lives…"

"But it's okay for you to put yourself in the line of fire alone? And what about Renfrew? The Plaskett girls? Anyone else who he targets between now and when he decides…"

"Jane…"

"Damn it, Lisbon," Jane snapped, finally losing his patience with her. "How many more people have to die just because _you_ don't have the confidence to use a perfectly viable plan?"

"You're right," she muttered and he gazed up at her, a small smile creeping onto his face. "We should do this."

"What?"

"You know, pretend to be…" she trailed off, wishing that Jane wouldn't put her into such an uncomfortable position. "Pretend to be in love again. If he's planning to do something anyway…"

"Why pretend?"

**TBC…**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N:** Yay, two chapters in one day. Then again, I need to be writing this fast to have a hope of finishing this.

Thanks to yaba, boutondor, dwennie, Divinia Serit and Ebony10 for reviewing so swiftly. And sorry for updating faster than people can read it. Heh.

x tromana

* * *

**Part Nine**

"Excuse me, Sir, but this is a crime scene," Lisbon shouted, exasperated, as a blond man made his way towards the dead body. "You can't just…"

The man paused, looked her up and down and smiled.

"I'm looking for Agent Lisbon. I was told he…" he trailed off as the woman in front of him smirked. "You're Agent Lisbon, aren't you?"

"Yes I am," she replied, proffering a hand automatically. Her boss had told her that Minelli had assigned the Serious Crimes Unit a consultant, trusting her, as second in command, to keep an eye on him. "And you're Patrick Jane."

"So you've heard of me, then?"

"Unfortunately."

"Well, that's not nice," he sniffed, "we've only just met."

"Yes, but I've been warned you're trouble."

"Lies."

"Twice. By two different people."

"Ah."

"So, Caucasian male, twenty seven. Died of blunt force trauma to the head. Weapon is probably…"

"That rock over there. You're going to send it to forensics for DNA testing. Am I right?"

"Yes," she answered, albeit through gritted teeth.

…

"I believe you promised a date if I was right about the last case."

"I did nothing of the sort," Lisbon replied, her eyes not quite meeting his. Truth be told, she was hoping he'd have forgotten.

"Oh come on, Teresa," Jane answered teasingly. "What would be so bad about dating me?"

"Do I really need to list the reasons?"

"Go on."

"It's against company policy."

"I'm just a consultant attached to your unit. Well, Mackenzie's unit. But it's going to be yours soon enough anyway."

"What is your point?"

"I'm just a civilian. You would not be doing anything wrong if you chose to date me."

"You're not going to drop this, are you?"

"No, I'm not."

That was the last time she was going to bet with him.

Ever.

…

"Marry me."

She took a couple of seconds to realize what he had just said. Lisbon couldn't quite believe it; she knew his history. They all did.

For a while she had simply assumed that she was the rebound. It made it easier to cope with what she saw as the inevitable heartbreak she would have to face sooner or later.

But still, she tried to disguise the smile that was trying to make itself known.

"Ask me later."

"Fine. Will you marry me _now_?"

"I meant not at work and _preferably_ not over a dead body."

"I knew what you meant."

"You're incorrigible. And being disrespectful to Mr. P…"

"I'm sure Mr. Peters doesn't really mind. In fact, were he still alive, he'd probably offer us his congratulations."

"You're that certain I'll say yes, are you?"

"Naturally."

"Well you'll still have to wait to find out. Go get on with something useful, Jane."

…

"You may now kiss the bride."

Her breath caught in her throat slightly as Jane reached out and brushed a few loose hairs away from her cheek.

Carefully, he leaned in and his lips barely brushed hers, but she couldn't help but smile. Only a chaste kiss; there were children present. Anything else would have been completely inappropriate, not that Jane usually worried too much about that.

"You okay?" he murmured, only loud enough for her to hear.

"I'm fine, Patrick."

"Most women cry on their wedding day."

"You should know by now, I'm not most women," she retorted, still grinning. "But if you really want me to turn into a blubbering wreck, I'm sure I could find some onions somewhere."

…

"I'm sorry, Jane, I just…"

He noted the use of his surname immediately.

Teresa only ever used it whenever she was angry or upset. She seemed to be both at that very moment.

Carefully, he reached out, placing a gentle hand on her waist. The kind of touch that she normally melted into, that normally relaxed her within seconds.

Instead, she brushed it away, along with some bitter tears.

He begged her hoarsely to stop as she zipped up the suitcase. And again as she hauled it downstairs.

Okay, so he was wrong about Red John this time around. It hadn't been the first time. Nor did he think it'd be the last.

She knew his Red John connection. He thought she understood it.

Clearly, he thought wrong. She obviously couldn't cope with sharing her husband with a serial killer and a ghost as well as he thought she could.

"I just can't do this anymore."

He felt helpless as she slammed the car door shut in front of him.

Seconds later, she was speeding away.

Patrick Jane wasn't quite sure what had happened. It had all been so fast.

000

"Teresa, you're as stiff as a board."

"I'm _fine_, Jane."

Jane frowned. She still hadn't adjusted to calling him Patrick again.

Then again, they had only been reunited, officially, for a week or so. She just needed a bit of time.

Unlike him, she had been trying to avoid this scenario. It was only because Red John had claimed to be upping his game that she agreed at all.

She had been right though; Minelli loathed the idea.

In fact, he'd spent a good half an hour trying desperately to persuade them otherwise. To tell them that the risks were too great, that the potential pay off was too small.

By dating again, whether it was for real or not, it was only going to anger Red John further.

In the end, knowing the resolve of both the people standing before him, his shoulders sagged and he gave up. Minelli knew that he would get more sense out of a brick wall than the two individuals standing in front of him.

Stubborn, the pair of them.

Eventually, he'd agreed to offer his support to them. He couldn't say he thought the plan was wise, but it was a chance to get Red John to show himself again. And if they did manage to get something out of it, then at least he could say the risk was worth it.

If it turned for the worst however…

Lisbon twitched slightly as a car pulled up outdoors and Jane tightened his grip on her shoulder slightly. She was jumping at ghosts now and she had been almost all night.

"He's not going to jump through the door at any minute."

"He knows where I live."

She didn't even need to state who had her so worried. It was blindingly obvious anyway, so there was little point in naming him.

Jane had been watching her all day. She'd been quite reserved, flinching at his every touch.

He'd tried talking to her about it but she always clammed up or changed the subject, with work being her preference. It was awful for him to see her so stressed and there was nothing he could do about it.

Especially as there was little he could do about it.

It didn't help that he was fairly certain she was only going to get worse.

"I'm going to bed," she whispered, pulling away from him. "There's some blankets in the closet."

"Okay," he responded as she stood. "We'll be fine, Teresa. I promise."

She nodded, not really believing him and he watched as she climbed upstairs and disappeared from sight.

He knew this was never going to be easy. They were never going to slip back into their lives and have what they used to have. Jane never expected that as that would have been far too much wishful thinking.

But somehow, he just thought it would be different to this.

**TBC…**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N:** This fic is driving me mad. No jokes about what do I mean 'driving'. *glares at twin and Cat.*

Thanks to Frogster, Koezh, forthecoast and Famous4it for going back and reviewing part eight. Thanks also to: The Mentalist Rules, boutondor, April, Frogster, Koezh, dwennie, yaba, phoenixmagic1, forthecoast, Famous4it and Divinia Serit for reviewing part nine. Especially so to April, who reviewed anonymously.

x tromana

* * *

**Part Ten**

The Red John case had been handed over to Samuel Bosco, nominally at least.

He would appear to work the case, along with the rest of his team, even appear to shut Jane out of it. Behind closed doors, he would keep both him and Lisbon updated, however, but no one else could know about it.

Minelli's orders.

The team had been horrified. Because of Jane and his connections, they viewed the case as being theirs. They wanted to finish what they had started, prove they could manage it. It didn't help that their most recent run-in with the serial killer had somehow made them all feel closer to him either.

Jane appeared to be equally furious, but in reality, he was just confused.

Minelli had 'officially' given the case to Bosco and his unit because he wanted Lisbon to be less of a target for Red John.

It defeated one of the two major purposes of Jane's plan altogether.

They were both still prime targets, that much was obvious, but it also drew Bosco directly into the line of fire as well.

The director was clearly going mad, but couldn't be budged. Obviously, his affections for a certain Teresa Lisbon had clouded his judgment. He was just acting like the father figure he saw himself as.

Jane didn't know much about Bosco; he'd only recently joined the CBI, transferring from one of the highest positions in the SFPD. Teresa, however, insisted he was a decent man who was very good at his job.

Decent.

Because decency would be enough to protect him from Red John.

Though he normally loved being proved right, he hated it when he saw Bosco fighting for his life after being shot.

It proved several other things too.

One, that they weren't even safe within the CBI headquarters.

Two, Red John wanted direct contact with them and them only.

Three, he was getting closer to attacking them as well.

They hadn't even proven it was linked to Red John yet, but Jane could feel it. Who else could it be? Only the serial killer would be _that_ daring. Only he would have the nerve to have state agents shot to death on their own soil.

He just hadn't seen the link yet.

As Bosco was wheeled away, Lisbon had gone into shock. That was a rare sight in itself, but Jane immediately knew when he saw her fumbling with her cell phone. And still, she was managing to give orders, insisting that Jane himself went to calm down too.

He'd never seen her tremble quite so much before though. Besides, he was okay. He'd almost been expecting this whereas Lisbon had clearly expected herself to be in Bosco's instead.

It didn't help that she was blaming herself either.

If Sam hadn't followed her to Sacramento, if she'd never given into that urge to kiss Jane, if she'd never agreed to Jane's stupid plan.

If she'd never allowed their lives to become so entangled in deceit and lies that it was becoming virtually impossible to tell what was the truth and what was mere fabrication.

Jane decided that the moment she had finished cleaning up, he would force her to sit down with a mug of hot, sweet tea.

Tea may not really have all the restorative properties people claimed it had, but it did do a damn good job at making things seem better, if nothing else.

000

"We should stop this, it's getting too dangerous."

"Teresa…"

"Sam's in hospital, Jane…"

She choked slightly on her words as she slammed the front door behind her. Jane didn't stir from his seat on the couch, there was little he could do to calm her down.

Besides, he recognized the look on her face. The look of somebody comprehending that a loved one had been snatched from them by Red John.

But Bosco wasn't dead. Yet.

"And do you want his sacrifice to be for nothing?"

"Don't say that," she snarled, immediately rounding on him. "He's not going to die."

"You keep telling yourself that."

"He's not."

She stalked upstairs immediately, not even bothering to either say goodnight to him or kick him out of her house.

Lisbon knew that she should have expected this. That Jane would turn into an ass, focused on one thing and one thing only: Red John.

Everything else came second: Bosco's wellbeing, her sanity, everything. He simply did not care so long as he got his man.

Not that they were likely to this time. From what they had, it all appeared to be moles planted by the serial killer. Certainly no direct intervention of his own.

Apart from Hicks and Doctor Morning, of course. Both killed off-site. Probably at the hospital.

But it was clear he was long gone from there too.

No, everything crucial that they were investigating involved the happenings at the headquarters, naturally.

Lisbon hated that. She hated how somewhere she used to feel so safe, so secure had become a crime scene. How someone she cared about deeply was now fighting for his life because of her own misjudgments. Her whole team were running scared and Minelli was acting odd and Jane…

Jane.

She roughly pulled off one of her shoes, threw it across the room and it collided with her bedroom door.

She hated Jane just a little at that very moment.

Was that exactly what Red John was aiming for?

000

He felt like he was intruding.

That was why he left the four of them, united in their grief, mourning one of their fallen.

He wasn't an agent, it wasn't the same for him. It was never going to be, unless it was one of the select few he was particularly close to.

One of the SCU, that is.

Of course, Jane attended the funeral along with Lisbon and the team. It was the least he could do.

He didn't listen to the words much; it was all mindless drivel, offering hope where there was none and the like. But others seem to take comfort in it, Grace especially. That was a good thing.

Lisbon didn't say or do much though. She simply sat there, in silence. Occasionally, she fought back a sob, deeming it inappropriate to be seen crying in public. Shed tears wouldn't bring Bosco back anyway.

He hated seeing her like that, always had done.

But still, there was nothing he could do. It was more productive to go and reclaim the Red John files, to actually start working on them again.

At least Lisbon had seen sense in the week that had just passed. Backing out now would be just counter-productive and besides, this was Red John.

He didn't forget. He _wouldn't _forget.

He was just planning his next move.

The trick was to work it out before Red John had time to pull it off.

Jane placed the first two files to one side and dug out the third. With a gentle sigh, he opened it before frowning.

The envelope that was staring back up at him was sealed and addressed to Lisbon. Beside her name, a small red smiley.

"Lisbon!"

Not caring about the fact he knocked the box of files to the floor, Jane pelted towards the bullpen. It was quiet, there was no one there to tell him to slow down, that running was inappropriate inside.

She frowned when she saw him, but made her excuses anyway. Jane rarely looked like that unless he had something very important to say. Something told her it was also something she didn't want the rest of the team hearing too.

They walked to her office in silence. She closed the blinds as he shut the door.

It was only then that he felt comfortable pulling the letter out of his pocket and handing it over to her.

As soon as her eyes fell onto the letter, he saw the panic creep into her expression.

Wordlessly, he handed it over and she shook as she tore the envelope over.

Lisbon didn't say anything and instead turned the piece of paper around so he could see.

Two words.

_**You're next.**_

**TBC…**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N:** I think I should be able to get this done in time now. I can't see this going on for much more than five parts - thank goodness. Still can't believe I even thought this was a sane idea and I certainly don't recommend writing a multiparter this fast.

Thank you to: Divinia Serit, EternalDarkness'n'Randomness007, dwennie, boutondor, Helvetica Bold, Frogster, Koezh, forthecoast, yaba and Famous4it for reviewing part ten.

x tromana

* * *

**Part Eleven**

Red John may have said 'you're next', but they hadn't seen hide nor hair of him for months.

It was making everyone rather nervous, especially Lisbon.

She had been acting a little off in that time, but Jane didn't blame her.

Not only was she mourning a friend, someone who she had known for years, but she was constantly watching over her shoulder for a serial killer. A serial killer who had openly said that she was going to be his next target.

And on top of all that, her boss had left her in the lurch. One of the few men she actually trusted just deserted her in her hour of crisis simply because he'd lost confidence in himself.

It was enough to make anyone behave a little out of sorts.

They'd moved house though. Firstly, it provided him with an ideal opportunity to move back in with her, but that wasn't the main reason for it. Lisbon simply couldn't relax in her own home and that was unfair on her. She needed some downtime, somewhere she could feel safe and secure. The recent attacks on CBI had left that out of the question and knowing that Red John knew where she lived…

Well, they didn't have too much of a choice really.

Jane had also tried to get her to talk to him, something which he only had little successes with.

Again, hardly surprising.

Lisbon wasn't the most forthcoming of people at the best of times, especially post-divorce, when she reverted back into herself and her job. Most of what he knew about her as she was now was what he read from her body language. That never changed - she was still as easy to read as an open book, not that she would ever admit that to herself.

Jane would suggest that she saw someone, talked about it. But that would have been hypocritical as he wouldn't ever consider discussing his problems with a professional willingly either.

Besides, she didn't have the best of successes when it came to psychiatrists. It was probably for the best that she avoided them altogether.

Especially since the McTeer debacle. They don't even dare talk about that.

He watched her as she gathered together her belongings, concentrating completely on the task in hand. An out of town case meant they both needed overnight bags and she, naturally, was taking the opportunity to stress out about it.

"Patrick," she sighed, irritated as he got in the way yet again. "The flight leaves in three hours. Are you actually going to help or just get in the way?"

"I'm just admiring the view."

She scowled at him as she grabbed a jacket from behind him and shoved it haphazardly in the bag. There was a time and a place for him to be like that and now was not it.

000

The case was an odd one.

It looked like it _should_ be a Red John one.

The cutting was the same. So was the presentation of the body.

The poor woman even had her toenails painted in her own blood. Red John didn't _always _do that, but whenever he felt like he needed to a point to make, he did.

Like Jane's wife. And Emma Plaskett.

However, the smiley face was missing.

"Maybe he was disturbed?" Maybe he didn't have time to do it?" Van Pelt queried, the theory being the most plausible one she could come up with.

Lisbon shook her head.

He'd had time to paint the toenails, he wouldn't have skipped out on the face.

Red John would have just killed the person who disturbed them instead.

He was too proud, too much an artist to consider leaving the job half done. And there was no way he would let somebody else take the credit for something he did so well.

She knew as much as that. They all did.

Lisbon crouched by the body, glancing up and down, trying to work out what exactly it was she was missing.

It couldn't be a coincidence that the wounds were identical to every single one of the serial killer's. Which meant, that if it was a Red John, the fact that he 'forgot' the one thing that would irrefutably tie him to the crime scene, there had to be a reason for it.

Lisbon glanced up at Jane. He looked just as bemused as she felt.

That wasn't a good sign.

"There's something in her pocket."

Nodding in response to Jane's statement, Lisbon allowed her gloved hand to dip into the dead woman's jacket pocket and she pulled out a pack of post it notes.

They were blank, apart from a few spots of ink that had bled through from where somebody had written on the top one.

They bagged it anyway, but Lisbon doubted it would be of any use.

000

She slept fitfully that night.

Jane insisted that she had the bed. He claimed that his insomnia meant he wouldn't make good use of it and therefore, there was little point in her suffering just to be polite.

Though she had started to relax around him, even started flirting again on occasion, they still weren't ready to share a bed again.

He doubted they would be for a while.

Lisbon probably only saw the relationship as being a necessity, something to help them with the Red John case, though nothing appeared to be coming of it. If it was resolved any time soon, he knew that she would take flight. The whole situation made her feel uncomfortable and the sooner she could be on her own again, the better.

Part of him hoped that this would drag on for a while then. Just so that she had the time to stop living in denial. To actually acknowledge her feelings for him.

They were still there.

Jane knew it, even if she didn't.

Come morning, she looked exhausted and Jane served her coffee quietly. He felt pretty rough too; the couch in their tiny motel bedroom wasn't exactly the most ideal place to sleep and watching her toss and turn had kept him awake for most of the night.

It was times like this that he just felt helpless.

After showering, she insisted that they head straight to their local base of operations. Van Pelt had managed to get them a couple of rooms shortly after seeing the body. The local officers weren't all that impressed with their presence, but Lisbon didn't really care. They were there to do a job and she was determined to sort out this little puzzle.

"Agent Lisbon?" the receptionist called across the lobby as they went to leave. "This was left here for you."

She cocked her head slightly, but indicated that the others should go on without her. Shrugging their shoulders, they left as instructed. Lisbon was going to be seconds behind them so it didn't really matter all that much.

The woman found the item a little odd, but the man had been insistent that Agent Lisbon received it. She wasn't one to ignore instructions, especially from somebody as persuasive as that.

Besides, he said that the petite woman standing before her would understand what it meant.

It was just a post-it note.

A yellow post-it note with one word and a little red symbol on it.

_**Soon.**_

**TBC…**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N:** Yay migraine of doom. Now I am worried about finishing this again, my migraines are never brief. Dammit.

Thank you to: boutondor, yaba, Frogster, Viktorija, Koezh, dwennie, forthecoast and Famous4it for reviewing part eleven.

x tromana

* * *

**Part Twelve**

Cho was busy questioning the receptionist.

The woman was getting more confused, more flustered by the second.

She'd given them a description of the man who had handed over the note. Elderly, with hypnotizing blue eyes. Had a cane with him, which he tapped incessantly on the ground. Smiled when she eventually agreed to pass the note onto Agent Lisbon, though it seemed like the most pointless message in the world.

How could it be related to a murder? The one that they were here to investigate in the first place?Besides, he seemed far too _nice_ to be able to kill anyone.

At least her manager had supplied them with surveillance tapes and caught her gentleman on camera. That seemed to help them out.

Though they didn't stop with the relentless questions. Didn't seem like they ever would.

"I think that's all we're getting from her," Lisbon murmured to Jane and he nodded in agreement.

"I don't think she saw Red John."

"Neither do I. Somebody who worked for him, probably. Maybe even a relative…"

"A relative? Really, Lisbon…"

"Boss?"Rigsby disturbed their quiet conversation, but neither minded much. The sooner they solved this case, the better. The most recent developments - the location of the missing smiley face had left them all rattled.

Some more so than others, naturally.

"Yes, Rigsby?"

"We've just had an anonymous tip. The car caught on the hotel's surveillance footage? It's been spotted by somebody walking their dog down by the riverside."

"And the man?"

"Nowhere to be seen."

Lisbon nodded and was already pulling on her jacket.

"D'you want me to come with you?"

"No."

"Teresa, it's…"

"Yes, I know. But damn it, Jane. I need space to _breathe_."

Jane sighed.

He understood.

Of course he did.

She was central to all of this. The threatening notes of various guises, the mock relationship which he'd been throwing his all into… even the girl who had just been killed had a resemblance to her that just couldn't be ignored.

It was little wonder she felt trapped.

But still, he couldn't help but worry. Lisbon breaking out on her own when she was surrounded by death threats felt wrong. Like she was willfully walking into a trap when all she really wanted to do was clear her head a little. Regain focus, set her thoughts straight.

"Take a camera. Please? And a microphone."

She nodded.

It was a compromise. It also meant that if anything suspicious happened, then the others would be able to see exactly what was happening and hopefully get there on time.

The dumping ground for the car wasn't all that far away, in walking distance even. There was no reason for them not to be able to get there swiftly.

Jane watched warily as she pulled out the technology and hooked herself up. She obviously saw it as an unnecessary precaution but was merely doing it to appease him. There was unlikely to be anything there; it had merely been dumped so they couldn't trace it back to the note-deliverer.

"Van Pelt, Cho, I want you to go to the Aunt's house again. The girl's cousin should be home by now; he was the last person to see her alive. Rigsby…"

"Stay here and watch the cameras?"

"Yes."

"And me?"

"Stay here with Rigsby."

Automatically, Jane pulled her into a bone-crushing hug, not giving her a chance to move. Without thinking, he placed a chaste kiss on her lips, barely brushing his skin against hers and was relieved that she didn't pull away. Maybe there was hope for them yet.

"Be careful."

"I'll be fine."

000

The warrant was the first priority, but luckily enough the local judge was feeling compliant. It meant that she could get on her way as soon as feasibly possible and do something useful again.

She knew she was being impulsive (for herself, at least) and taking an unnecessary risk by doing this without company, but frankly, Lisbon didn't care.

It felt good to be on her own, rather than having people glancing at her with concerned gazes and the worried whispers associated with them.

That atmosphere was stifling and made her feel uncomfortable. She needed to get out of it and do something constructive. Okay, so the gentleman was almost certainly long gone and unlikely to return, but they needed to be sure.

Besides, there might just be some crucial piece of evidence left in the vehicle.

Again, unlikely, but it would be unprofessional not to check it.

It didn't take her long to get to the riverside and as she approached the vehicle, for the very first time, she began to think it was a bad idea.

The place was virtually deserted of other life forms, so if anything was to happen to her, there would be no witnesses to help out. Though the team were in walking distance, the base of operations was still a good fifteen minutes away.

A lot could happen in fifteen minutes.

Lisbon shuddered involuntarily.

The sooner she got out of here, the better.

Quickly, she approached the vehicle, pulling on latex gloves out of habit. If nothing else, they might be able to get some fingerprints from somewhere on the car.

She didn't even make it to the vehicle before somebody attacked.

000

When she woke, her first instinct was to kick out.

That was unsuccessful though. All she managed to do was cause the chair to which she had been unceremoniously taped to wobble a little and make her woozy head feel a little worse.

It also attracted the attention of another figure in the dusty building.

With a slight smile, he walked towards her and before she even noticed his facial features, she spotted the knife hanging from his right hand.

Clearly, her captor wasn't intending that she made it out of this alive.

"I think you know who I am."

She nodded.

"It's good to finally meet you in the flesh."

"I wish I could say likewise."

"Now, now. No need to be so testy."

Red John placed the knife, the blade that had already taken so many lives on the floor and approached her. He pulled the leather glove off of his right hand and reached out to gently stroke her cheek.

She flinched.

She was always going to.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"You're not very good at lying, Teresa."

"Neither are you," she spat, trying to sound calm despite the fact her stomach was doing back flips. "You said I'd be your next victim, but I wasn't. Catherine Mayhew was."

"Dear, sweet Catherine? Yes, she was fun. All part of the plan," Red John whispered, creeping ever closer to her. "So really, it's all about semantics isn't it?"

"Not really, no."

Her eyes never left him as he began to circle her, very much trying to ensure that he was the predator and she, the prey.

She was nervous, he could tell, but she was doing a fairly good job at covering her tracks, all things considering.

A minute later, he pulled on his glove once more. For practicality's sake, if nothing else.

He darted away from her and scooped up the knife with ease.

He would have liked to have continued with this game of power play, but didn't really have the time. The others probably weren't far away - they were predictable enough to know that. If he wanted to finish the job, he had to get moving.

For a second time, she tried to kick, but only managed to overturn her chair. Her right arm slammed into the concrete and she winced at the shock of pain.

"You shouldn't have done that, Teresa. You're only making things worse for yourself."

Red John knelt beside her and she swallowed deeply as the sharp edge hovered nearby. Slowly, carefully, it came closer and closer.

She closed her eyes seconds before the knife blade plunged into the exposed skin of her neck.

**TBC…**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N:** The problem with updating this daily? I'm running out of things to say in author's notes. I'm sorry.

Thank you to: Angelic dEvil xo, autumnftw, Frogster, yaba, boutondor, dwennie, Ebony10, Sarcastic Pygmy, mbleiva24 and Famous4it for reviewing part twelve.

x tromana

* * *

**Part Thirteen**

"You're not seriously going to just sit there and listen to her, are you?"

"Yes, why?"

Rigsby looked at Jane as if he had gone completely mad. Lisbon was his boss and she'd given him a direct instruction. It would be absolutely ridiculous to go and do the complete opposite, just because Jane thought it was a good idea. She'd be absolutely livid if he did.

But it was Jane hunches were almost always unerringly right.

He narrowed his eyes as Jane pulled on his jacket, seemingly not caring about the fact that he was about to blatantly disregard what Lisbon had said barely seconds earlier. And they were dating. That was just heading towards a minefield of problems. Especially as their relationship had never been that steady in the first place. Their divorce said as much and he had been very surprised to hear that Lisbon had agreed to take him back.

Rigsby knew that better than most, especially after Hightower's intervention.

It seemed strange that she had one rule for Jane and Lisbon and another for him and Van Pelt though.

Of course, it wasn't his place to question the director's leadership skills. It wasn't any of theirs. If they wanted to work for the CBI, they simply had to accept it and move on.

It was hard, seeing Van Pelt every day and not being able to touch her, to hold her. But it was better than nothing. And they both had their careers.

And they were moving on.

"Right," Rigsby answered, deciding on the spot that if Jane had a suitable explanation, he'd help him. If he made some sort of sense, he would be willing to drop what he was doing in favor of helping him. "Explain first."

"No time."

"Jane, she's got to get the warrant first. You really think something could happen to her there?"

Jane rolled his eyes. Explaining was never his forte.

Showing, however, was far more his style.

"It could be a trap."

"That all? It's a dumped car."

"Exactly. What's so dangerous about that?"

"Ah."

000

"There's nothing here."

Jane kicked the car out of frustration, not that it did much good.

He didn't even strike it hard enough to hurt his toe.

He should have persuaded Rigsby that taking the car would be a more suitable option. Walking ate up too much precious time, too much energy.

Lisbon could be anywhere by now.

Almost literally.

He shouldn't have let her go on her own. Yes, he'd been shadowing her recently, almost excessively, but it had been for her own good. Even at night, he'd refused to leave her alone in the bedroom just in case the improbable happened. That had annoyed her quite a lot, but she let him get on with it.

Trying to explain otherwise to him required too much energy on her part.

And now, because he'd bended to her whims just this once, the improbable had.

"She could have just…"

Jane raised an eyebrow in Rigsby's direction and he immediately clamped his mouth shut.

Where Jane was looking at the worst case scenarios, Rigsby, however, was trying to be more hopeful. He knew what judges were like, she could still be waiting impatiently, puffing and sighing in frustration as the warrant came through painfully slowly. Or she could already have finished up at the car and moved onto another location, without bothering to tell them.

Or…

Well. He was hoping for anything but the one that kept flitting to the forefront of his mind.

Because there was no point in jumping to the worst conclusion as Jane appeared to have done.

Until it's confirmed otherwise, there's always _hope_.

"Jane…"

"What?" Jane snapped, angry with himself, with Lisbon, with the whole world.

Then, his eyes caught sight of the object in Rigsby's left hand.

It had been slightly wedged into the muddy ground, given the dirt now clogged in its crevices. Not as if it had been there for long, ignored by the masses, but rather somebody had stepped on it.

Lisbon's cross.

It wasn't something she would leave behind in a hurry and the chain was broken.

Obviously there was a fight and she'd put up a struggle. Given the fact that the precious piece of jewelry was left behind, Jane knew who came off worse.

So did Rigsby, given the look on his face.

Anger was suddenly replaced with fear.

"Where did you find it?"

Shaking, he pointed to a spot beside a tire and Jane was soon laying beside it, feeling eagerly underneath the car.

As he expected, another note. Another piece of paper. Red John's favorite way of communicating with Teresa Lisbon.

Except, it wasn't addressed to her, but to him instead.

_**Dear Mr. Jane,**_

_**I have your ex-wife, current lover, but you've probably worked that one out already.**_

_**We're at 4514 Sparrow's Point. A glorified garden shed, but better than nothing.**_

_**If you're quick, you may just be able to save her. If not, well… there's more blood on the walls and on your hands, isn't there?**_

_**Your choice, Mr. Jane. Your choice.**_

"Do you trust his words?" Rigsby asked, fearfully.

"We have to. What else do we have?"

000

Red John had been right.

It was a glorified garden shed. Glorified in the sense that it was bigger than a shed, but couldn't fill much other purpose than that.

Van Pelt and Cho arrived at the location just as Rigsby did.

The agent had insisted upon calling them; this was Red John they were talking about. They needed all the help they could get.

Jane had gone on ahead, unable to stand around and wait even for a five minute phone call. The letter had said that time was of the essence and he couldn't stand waiting around for the others. Rigsby clearly didn't get the urgency of the situation. Lisbon could be injured, dying - or worse - and all he wanted to do was wait for the others.

The building was eerily silent as they approached it.

Even the sound of birdsong failed to invade the senses.

Cho was the one to knock on the door and after five seconds without an answer, forced it open with his entire body weight. They didn't have time to be messing around, not with how long it had taken them to get there in the first place.

The scene that greeted them wasn't the one they expected.

An unfamiliar man, dressed in a long black leather coat, despite the warm weather was pinned to the wall, against a half finished smiley face. A drop of blood fell from the forefinger of his gloved right hand.

And Jane was holding a knife, presumably Red John's, to the serial killer's throat.

Van Pelt had to smother a gasp as her eyes were drawn to the ground, to the butchered body. From the looks of things, Lisbon never had a chance.

"Drop the knife, Jane," Cho called. One of their number had just been murdered, he wasn't about to let another become a killer too. "She wouldn't want this."

"She's _dead_."

"I know," he replied simply. Now was not the time to get emotional. "But you know she never wanted you to do this. We all agree with her."

His words were enough to bring Jane to his senses and with a slight nod, he pulled away, ever so slightly.

As Jane dropped the weapon and it clattered on the ground by his feet. The serial killer simply laughed, eying each of them in turn, daring them to challenge his amusement at the situation.

He hadn't meant to get caught, not yet anyway, but this was a fitting end to his career, he surmised. As he was going down, it was good to take a cop down with him.

And by the looks of things, completely destroy Patrick Jane emotionally for a second time as well.

Cho pulled Jane away, holding him firm as Rigsby and Van Pelt took his place. There was no way they were letting the murderer get away with this.

"That bastard killed my wife," Jane practically howled as Van Pelt, bitterly ignoring Lisbon's body, handcuffed Red John. "Both of them."

**TBC…**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N:** My head hurts and I have an interview. That is all.

Thank you to: LizfromItaly, Sarcastic Pygmy, LAurore, dwennie, Viktorija, lisbon69, yaba, autumnftw, Angelic dEvil xo, anthropologist, Frogster, forthecoast, Ebony10 and boutondor for reviewing part thirteen. Thank you so much for your support during this fic - I don't think I'd be on the verge of finishing it in time for the monthly challenge without you.

x tromana

* * *

**Part Fourteen**

Red John was left under the highest protection, but still, he died.

He had plenty of enemies, even when trapped in a secure prison cell. Any number of people could have slipped in, done the deed and slipped out again, if they tried hard enough.

And no one would have doubted he deserved it either. He had slaughtered nineteen innocent people that they knew of. Possibly countless more that they didn't, too.

But officially, Red John himself became his twentieth victim.

He'd even taken the time to daub the smiley face on the wall of the cell. Of course, he couldn't finish himself off with his trusty blade; that and any other sharp object, wasn't allowed anywhere near him. Instead, it was poison that he had somehow managed to smuggle in with him.

It seemed he wanted to take the answers to all the questions surrounding him and his mysteries to the grave.

The main one simply being: why?

Cho was informed of his death twenty four hours before Teresa Lisbon's funeral.

He'd been trying to relax with Elise, trying desperately to keep death off of his mind. Almost trying to pretend that the recent events hadn't happened at all.

That tomorrow was just any old day.

That Lisbon, the little spitfire that she was, would stalk into work and complain about how the unit had gone into complete disarray during her absence. She would take charge, straighten everything up, give Patrick Jane an almighty kick up the butt and then they'd be off.

To solve crimes, like they always did.

Like the professionals they were.

Elise didn't need to ask him what was wrong as he quietly bid the caller farewell. Kimball had been so tense since his last incursion with Red John and justifiably so. She didn't even need to go into their offices to know that it was like the team had had a limb amputated. Or even been decapitated. It was hard to judge which so close to the event.

Besides, Kimball had always talked so passionately about his boss. Not in a way that it seem like she was a threat to their relationship. She knew that there was nothing going on between them, they were like siblings. Elise's relationship with Kimball was safe, secure.

It was more of a case that she gave him drive, a fire in his belly during working hours, not that he'd ever show it.

And any woman who could do that to Kimball Cho was worthy of admiration in her opinion.

The only problem was that Elise doubted that Kimball had ever actually told Lisbon half of the things he'd told her.

Now, he would never have the chance.

Sighing, she allowed her fingers to move deftly over his shoulders, trying desperately to alleviate some of the tension that Kimball was carrying around with him.

She knew it was to little, or no avail.

Besides, he was too busy informing Van Pelt of Red John's suicide. The thought of death usually saddened her, even though both herself and Kimball worked closely to it in their own ways. His death was one she couldn't be sad about though.

At least Lisbon hadn't died for nothing.

Still, tomorrow was going to be a long day.

000

Rigsby held a tie up against his shirt and stared at his reflection.

It was the tie that went best with this shirt and he knew it. Only problem was, Lisbon hated it. She'd said so on more than one occasion, always expressing disgust whenever he wore it into work. Such was her distaste, she even threatened to incinerate it once.

Which was going a bit far, considering it was just an innocent tie.

He smirked slightly at the memory, but threw the tie down as he did so. It wasn't an option, not really. If he dared wear that tie to her funeral, she'd find a way of haunting him or something. That would just be so very like her.

Then again, it still hadn't quite sunk in that she was actually gone.

Everything had happened so fast. And added on top of that, Red John's death too. It was all getting a little hard to comprehend.

Scowling at the clothing dilemma, Rigsby quickly shrugged out of his shirt and pulled another one out of his closet.

Women assumed that men had it easier when it came to clothing options when in actuality, it was harder. There was so little to choose from and it was so restrictive.

If only that damn shirt actually went with a tie that Lisbon liked.

If only she hadn't died at all.

Okay, so he may have been considering leaving the CBI, or at least transferring out of the unit. Working with Van Pelt when she wouldn't give him the time of day, no thanks to Agent Hightower, was hard. Cho didn't make things any easier and neither did Jane. But that didn't mean he didn't enjoy the work, didn't want to see any of his colleagues ever again.

Certainly didn't want any of them dead.

All he wanted was a new challenge, new surroundings. Not a new boss because some son of a bitch had decided he wanted to make life worse for Patrick Jane.

Death was just too permanent.

And that scared Rigsby just a little.

He'd always imagined Lisbon being around one way or another. Always there to answer any questions he had when it came to the job, regardless of whether or not he was actually one of her subordinates. He could've been working in another state, another country even, but she would have always been more than happy to help.

Why? Because he was one of Mother Teresa's brood - that's why.

Rigsby jumped when he heard a car horn from outside of his window. Cho had agreed that they should travel to the funeral together. It made more sense than taking more cars than necessary.

He finally sorted out a tie and gave his appearance one last check in the mirror. It'd do. She would approve, at least.

As he was struggling with this whole debacle, he dreaded to imagine how Jane was coping.

000

Van Pelt took her seat beside Rigsby, glad they were all together. Glad they had the support of one another on such a terrible occasion.

The turnout was smaller than she expected, but there were a lot of people she recognized from work.

It seemed like almost the entire CBI had turned up. That was good. Lisbon deserved it. Despite her reserved nature, she had been well-liked in the office and it showed.

She tried her hardest, but found she couldn't listen to the words being spoken. Normally, Van Pelt was the first to seek solace in words from the bible, but somehow, they just felt hollow. Maybe she was just feeling too sad to be reflective on the situation at the moment?

Instead, she shredded the tissue in her hand.

Somehow, it felt more productive.

She couldn't look to her right for too long. Not at the coffin, not knowing who was in there. Of course, Van Pelt was more than aware of just how dangerous their job was, but she had never considered the fact that one of them would actually die.

It was one thing to be shot when wearing a Kevlar vest or to break a leg during a fall. Another thing entirely to be stabbed to death by a serial killer.

All because of one fatal decision.

If Lisbon hadn't decided to go and look at the abandoned car alone, if she'd had back up, they might have had a chance of apprehending Red John there.

Or, more than one of them could be dead.

But at least then, she wouldn't feel the dreadful guilt in the pit of her stomach.

Every so often, she glanced to her left and right, trying to register the feelings of her co-workers. Cho was staring hard to the front, Rigsby clearly trying to listen to every word uttered, occasionally nodding in agreement when a speaker offered glowing praise for Lisbon. Jane just looked as hollow as she felt.

Part of her expected some sort of ruckus between Jane and Lisbon's brothers at some point during the day. She'd known that they had gotten together a little while before her death, they all had, though Lisbon was more tense during their brief affair. What she hadn't known was that they had been married before, however. Shortly after Jane's first wife died and before he had joined the CBI as a permanent consultant.

Unfortunately, she wasn't disappointed. The moment they were outside of the church, the eldest punched Jane square on the nose, accusing him of killing his elder sister and had to be actively restrained by the other two.

Van Pelt could practically imagine Lisbon's humiliation at the show and that made things all the worse.

She was dreading work in the morning.

And just how Patrick Jane would react from now on, though he hadn't actually confirmed whether or not he would continue working with them.

To lose one wife was terrible. To lose two, however…

**TBC…**


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N:** Who can't believe I actually finished this on time? There's just an epilogue left to post and that'll go up tomorrow morning, probably. Unless I get really impatient or something.

Thanks to: Frogster, Divinia Serit, dwennie, Dance Alice Dance, Viktorija, autumnftw, Angelic dEvil xo, boutondor, lisbon69, yaba, anthropologist and forthecoast for reviewing part fourteen. Especially so to lisbon69 who logged in anonymously.

And Cat, of course this is a happy ending. They can see each other in heaven, right?

x tromana

* * *

**Part Fifteen**

She found him in Lisbon's office, or at least, the room that _was_ Lisbon's office.

It was still intact. Nobody had had the heart to take it apart just yet and besides, it wasn't needed. They were still interviewing for her replacement.

Van Pelt and Rigsby had both urged Cho to put himself up for consideration, but he refused. It felt wrong trying to step into Lisbon's shoes and besides, he was happy with his lot and had never seen the appeal of becoming a senior agent anyway.

Jane hadn't cared either way.

In fact, he barely said a word to any of them all week.

He was on the red couch, tossing and turning, trying desperately to get comfortable. Van Pelt felt a smile tugging at the corner of her lips but quickly regained control of her emotions. Besides, there was a reason she was in here and it was not because she wanted to watch Jane attempt to sleep.

"Jane?"

"What?"

"Case."

"Oh."

He didn't bother looking at her. In fact, he turned so that all she could see was his back, making it blindingly obvious he wanted to ignore her. For her to leave him alone so he could think in peace.

"Damn it, Jane, snap out of it," Van Pelt hissed, annoyed with his moping. "We've got work to do."

"What's the point?"

"The point? The _point_?" she retorted, understanding exactly why Lisbon had found him so insufferable on occasion. "To catch killers and put them away where they can't hurt anybody else. I'd say that's a good enough reason, wouldn't you?"

"Doesn't change the fact that the person is dead though, does it?"

Van Pelt gaped at him. It was clear what this was about.

The rest of them were trying their best to move on, to keep things going, to do their jobs properly. Jane, however, was doing the exact opposite and making it harder on the rest of them.

She wasn't surprised that it was affecting him more; if he'd just brushed it off as if nothing had happened, she'd have been more worried. But still. There was a time and a place to be sad and when there was work to be done, it was absolutely not the time.

"You know what? Fine. Stay here, in a foul mood. See if I care."

Jane didn't even flinch as she slammed the door behind her.

000

He was going to propose again.

When the Red John thing was finished, over and done with, he was going to ask Teresa to be his wife for a second time.

It didn't matter that their relationship was never what he expected. Didn't matter that she flinched almost every time he touched her or withdrew into herself whenever she was scared. They would have managed to rekindle their love; it was just a matter of time.

Time that was cut cruelly short.

Fingering the engagement ring gently, he placed it back in its velvet box. Her brothers would probably be coming to pick her stuff up soon. And inevitably, the ring would disappear into storage along with the rest of her stuff.

Or sold on, without a second thought, as if Teresa had never worn it in the first place.

Bitterly, he wiped the tears away from his eyes with his free hand. He couldn't cry, not here. It didn't matter that he was alone, that the others were busy doing their jobs. That he knew he wouldn't be disturbed for at least another two hours.

If he let the tears flow here, in Teresa's office, they just wouldn't stop.

Then, somebody would say he should have some time off, take a break from it all. That he clearly hadn't recovered from the shock of her death.

After this morning's show, Van Pelt would even say that he wasn't using the job as a distraction, so it shouldn't matter that he wasn't at the CBI headquarters.

But that wasn't the point.

He didn't want to leave the CBI, not yet.

Here, he felt closer to her. She had always felt more comfortable at work than at home. Even after they moved, after the attack on Bosco and his unit, she was still happier at work. It gave her drive, it was something that she knew she was good at.

And she genuinely loved her job.

He slid open the draw to her desk and replaced the velvet box back where he had removed it from. It didn't belong to him; ownership had probably transferred to her brothers now, technically speaking.

Jane promised that he would never ask for her jewelry back and that was one promise he refused to break.

He'd just been busy reminiscing.

Something else caught his eye and he allowed his fingers to run over it.

Her Glock 9mm.

Jane had never been fond of guns, but for some reason, he picked it up.

And pocketed it.

At a loss of things to do, he closed the door, with the intention to head outside. Somehow, the atmosphere had become stifling.

He paused in the lobby.

There was a mahogany board that hung proud there. Normally, he didn't pay much attention to it, nobody really did. It was just a feature that had always been there, honoring those who had fallen in the service of the CBI.

Underneath Samuel Bosco Junior's name, freshly added in gold leaf that morning.

Teresa Lisbon.

000

"I'm not going to shoot you, Jane."

Van Pelt's voice quavered as she looked down the barrel of the gun.

It wasn't the first time she had been in this position and she was certain it wouldn't be the last. Her job was dangerous and Lisbon's death had been proof of that.

She just never expected that Patrick Jane would be the one pointing a gun at her.

They'd received a harried telephone call from Hightower, stating that a man was going nuts in a local cemetery. That he was armed, was threatening to shoot himself and others if they came too close.

She'd neglected to tell them it was Jane though.

Apparently, they were the closest unit on a call, so they had to deal with it.

"What's the point, Van Pelt?"

"Don't talk like that, Jane."

"Why not?"

"Lisbon wouldn't…"

"Lisbon wouldn't what? How do you know? You barely knew her."

"I knew her well enough."

Van Pelt couldn't let his words hurt her. Nor could she let him hurt himself or others. She couldn't even take his disbelieving snort to heart, because deep down, she knew he didn't really mean it. He was just reacting badly to the whole situation.

They'd known he was pretty messed up because of everything, but none of them had expected things to be quite this bad. But Jane was always a pretty good actor. He'd pulled the wool over their eyes time and time again, so she cursed herself for not realizing it. There was a massive difference between being in mourning and letting the grief overwhelm you until that was all that was left.

She should have known that losing two wives to one serial killer would be too much for him.

"Come on, Jane. Put the gun down."

"No."

"If you do that, we can go and get some tea, or something. Have a chat."

Behind him, Rigsby stood on a twig and Jane's eyes flared in anger.

They were ganging up on him, trying to stop him from doing this. Not that he'd decided what _this_ was quite yet. It was a work in progress.

But still, couldn't they see how much he was hurting? How wrong this all was?

Squeezing his eyes firmly shut, he pulled the trigger.

000

"He's taking a psych evaluation now," Rigsby whispered, allowing his fingers to brush against Van Pelt's shoulder.

"He's going to fail, isn't he?"

"It's probably for the best that he does."

Van Pelt nodded.

Professional help would do him.

She was just grateful that he was such a crap shot.


	16. Epilogue

**A/N: **I don't recommend writing a 15-part multiparter in a fortnight. Thanks especially to Cat for the hand-holding and giving me something to compete against to actually get this completed in time for the Jello Forever Challenge. I'd have given up long ago were it not for you.

Thank you to: Frogster, dwennie, boutondor, yaba, Ebony10, autumnftw, lisbon69, Koezh, forthecoast, April, and Divinia Serit for reviewing part fifteen and not giving up on this despite... ehm... certain decisions I've made during this. Especially so to April who logged in anonymously - the death, I believe, was a natural progression of the storyline. I'm sorry if you disagree, but I always write what I think works best and don't shy away from things like that.

x tromana

(PS. Yes, the change of tenses is intentional)

* * *

**Epilogue**

He's drowning in blood.

Not his, though.

His first wife's, or maybe the second's. He's not quite sure.

Doesn't matter really. It doesn't make a difference either way.

They're both as dead as each other in any case.

Jane hears a sound and glances to his right. Company. He hadn't expected him back so soon. It would have been nice to have one night without him, just a few hours of solitude, but it wasn't meant to be.

"It's your fault," Samuel Bosco Junior seethes, as angry as ever. "You promised you'd look after her and you couldn't even do that. Just how useless are you?"

He turns away, unable to focus on Bosco's face. Mainly because the man is right. He _is_ useless.

And his relationship with Teresa Lisbon? That was just a pile of broken promises and broken dreams.

Some more spectacular than the others.

Bosco clicks his tongue in irritation. He's not going away any time soon and they both know it.

Jane once joked that Bosco would come and haunt him. He never realized that would be the literal truth.

Irony can be a pain in the ass sometimes.

"She never deserved it, you know," Bosco continues, despite Jane's best attempts to block him out. "It should have been you who died, not her."

For once, Bosco is talking sense.

Peeping out of one eye, Jane notices a glass on the table. An inane object, but if he just…

Yes.

He stands and shuffles slowly in the direction of the cup, skirting around Bosco carefully, who merely rolls his eyes in response.

"He's doing it again."

A new voice invades.

He's not all that familiar with it, not yet anyway. It's been too soon.

But he does already associate it with one thing: dreamless sleep.

For the first time in what feels like forever, Jane cracks a smile.

That'll be nice.

end


End file.
